


He Who Laughs Last

by colls



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-21
Updated: 2010-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colls/pseuds/colls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Drago-Kazov attend some political to-do on board Andromeda and one of them recognizes Harper from time spent on Earth. <i>Contains violent themes (ie. suggested torture and there is implied noncon, but it is not explicitly mentioned)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	He Who Laughs Last

The _Andromeda Ascendant_ was hosting a political summit, which meant that most of the crew was occupied with yet another round of pomp and circumstance. Harper wasn't exactly the spit shine type, so he didn't mind when he was asked to make himself scarce. He was especially relieved to have gotten off the hook when he learned there were several Nietszcheans on board. Not that he was afraid of them, he was just wary. He didn't want to be around them any more than absolutely necessary.

"Why do you look so happy?" Rommie asked, "You've basically been told you lack enough social graces to be trusted in mixed company."

"Happy? Honey, I'm the cat the ate the canary. I just got ordered to not do what it was I didn't want to do before I knew I didn't want to do it. The fates have shined on me and the universe doesn't hate me today."

"You ate a protein bar, Harper, not a canary."

"It's a figure of speech."

"Another quaint Earth colloquialism? What does it mean?"

"It means that I got away with something. Things turned around my way for once and I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth."

Rommie arched an eyebrow at him.

"Never mind."

"My presence is required in the conference room," she turned to leave. Pausing, she looked back at Harper. "Don't eat any more canaries from the mouth of a horse. Not until I get back. It's something I'd like to see."

Harper chuckled. He wasn't sure if he had succeeded in giving the avatar a sense of humor or if she was developing one on her own. Not that she was particularly good at it, but it amused him that she conceded to attempt humor at all. After the time he was infested with Magog larvae, she had learned that he used humor as a way to ground himself, to comfort himself. Basically as a way to survive without going batshit insane. Humor made him feel safe. There had been days when so few things had.

He had some diagnostics work to do on the _Eureka Maru_ and a fresh case of Sparky cola waiting for him. So, he gathered an armful of supplies from his machine shop and headed down the corridor towards the docking bays. Rounding a corner, he ran straight into one of the delegations. Literally. Extra wires and several processing chips flew out of his hands, crashing to the deck.

"Fool!" growled a very large and disgruntled Nietszchean. "Watch where you are going or I will have you shot."

"Hey, don't get your panties in a bunch," Harper muttered under his breath as he bent to retrieve his items. As he quickly walked away, he vaguely registered that something seemed familiar. Once in the hangar bay, he shook his head to clear thoughts of the unwelcome guests from his mind. He boarded the _Maru_, still spooked enough that he locked the door behind him.

 

Lucianus Ataturk was personal aide to Marcus Calpunius, the authority sent by the Drago-Kazov to insure a favorable outcome in the current negotiations. It had been Marcus who had barked at the human in the hall, but it had been Lucianus who watched the retreating form scurry down the hall with undisguised interest. He couldn't believe that scrawny human was here - here on the infamous _Andromeda Ascendant_.

He usually hadn't paid much attention to the vermin that ran around on Earth when he was stationed there several years ago, but he remembered that kludge. He fingered the scar that ran beneath his left ear, remembering how he'd vowed to make the human responsible die a slow and painful death.

Lucianus knew about the wild human-kludges that roamed the ghettos of Boston, how they were frequently used for entertainment to alleviate boredom. He compared it to throwing a couple hungry dogs in a pit and seeing which one would survive. Only the humans could be sneaky and dirty when they fought each other in the pit, so you never knew which one might prevail. Much to the enjoyment and profit of the bookies who ran the bets.

One evening as he watched a male and female human battle it out, Lucianus was suddenly overcome with the desire for action. Not that he wanted to be in the pit, necessarily, only that he wanted to be inflicting that pain, drawing that blood. He found himself wanting a more private type of entertainment. He placed a bet on the female and studied his colleagues. Had any of them ever caught one of these creatures for their personal use? Could it be arranged?

These were unregistered humans, meaning no one was keeping track of them - at least not in any official sense. Technically they belonged to the Drago-Kazov, and, well.... wasn't Lucianus a member of the Drago-Kazov pride?

 

_ Several years ago on Earth..._

Lucianus sprawled out on the plush sofa in the center of the room. He was naked - finding it simply easier to simply shower and redress than having to wash the human's blood off his clothes all the time. He picked up a drink and his eyes drifted to his captive chained in the corner. The human's head was down and his body lay limp against his restraints. Lucianus knew the kludge was still conscious and was only playacting, but wasn't in the mood to punish him further. Besides, he had meetings to attend this afternoon. One which might prove useful in his quest to rise in rank.

After having relaxed, Lucianus showered, dressed and walked towards the human. Along with a plastic water bottle, he dropped a platter containing the remains of his own meal from the day before. He hadn't fed the creature in three days and wanted him to regain a little strength. He had so many other activities planned for this one. He had gotten very experimental this time, keeping this one alive much longer than he usually did.

"Perhaps, pet, you'll bathe when I return." He reached down to stroke the human's head and the human flinched. Anger at having his affection rebuffed, Lucianus backhanded him, knocking his head against the wall and splitting his lip. He then turned to leave and go about his day. He'd deal with the kludge when he returned.

Only when he returned, the human was no longer in his chains. Lucianus had walked into the room and was immediately attacked from behind. He had caught the kludge's arm with his bone blades and pinned him to the wall, but the scrawny human had blown some sort of whistle. The sound was excruciatingly painful and distracted him enough for the human to attack with his free hand. Small and weakened by days of hunger, the human didn't succeed in slitting the Nietszchean's throat, so the damage to the side of his neck was actually relatively minor. The insult, however, was not.

Had the incident not occurred in private, he would've been disgraced. Yes, he remembered that scrawny human. He smiled at the thought of enacting his revenge, especially on how easy it would be. He turned to catch up with the rest of the delegation. He only needed a moment to speak with Marcus before the conference began.

 

The Triumvir, an elected official of the All Systems Commonwealth who was officiating the negotiations, decided that he wanted the entire senior staff of the _Andromeda_ present during the closing phase. So, when negotiations were nearing completion, Rommie called Trance, Harper and Beka into the conference room. That was when Marcus issued one final ultimatum.

"I'll also require that all property belonging to the Drago-Kazov Pride currently on board be returned by the time we are prepared to disembark."

Dylan hesitated, but saw no cause to refuse. He nodded to Rommie. "OK, sure. Any property you have on board will be returned. Understanding, of course, that the All Systems Commonwealth currently recognizes the Kodiak Pride's claim to prior ownership of the remains of Drago Museveni."

Ignoring the remark about the remains, Marcus motioned to one of his aides who retrieved some sort of chain and leather harness and pointed to Harper. "You can insure he does not evade you with this. Did you install the data port? If so, I can arrange to have it removed and returned. I wouldn't want to be accused of being unfair."

"What?!" Harper's mouth dropped open and he quickly looked from Marcus to Dylan to Beka and back again. "Boss, he's joking, right?!"

Rommie crossed her arms and gave the Nietszchean a look that could've peeled paint off the wall behind him. "We will not be needing that... contraption. You're not taking my engineer, he's no one's property." Rommie also knew that removing the data port would likely result in permanent brain damage.

"He's from Earth, is he not? One of my aides recognized him. Apparently a bit of a rabble rouser and he's obviously a flight risk, but he is not a serious threat."

Then Harper remembered what was familiar about the Nietszchean in the hallway. _It can't be. I killed him._ The blood drained out of Harper's face and he moved a bit closer to Rommie, who remained glaring at the Nietszcheans with her arms folded.

Noticing Harper's distress, but not recognizing the severity of it, Dylan cleared his throat. "The All Systems Commonwealth does not recognize sentient beings as property. Your request to take my engineer with you is denied." He smiled and stood up. "Now, if there isn't anything else, let's sign the treaty and we can all be on our way."

Marcus did not stand. "I'm not sure you understand, Captain. Returning our property is one of the items I'm going to have to insist upon. Earth and everything on Earth belongs to our Pride."

"It is an item that is not open for discussion, Mr. Calpunius."

"Then I'm afraid that the question of a cease fire is also not open for discussion."

Marcus sat at the conference table with a look on his face resting somewhere between nonchalance and arrogance. Rommie thought she now understood the expression 'cat who ate the canary' even though cats had been extinct for several hundred years and there were no canaries on board. He was holding the threat of ongoing hostilities over Dylan's head and Rommie didn't like it one bit. He acted as if he'd just won a prize and that he'd painted Dylan into a corner.

But Marcus didn't know Dylan. And Marcus certainly didn't know Rommie.

Dylan broke the silence. "Well, then. I guess the next time we meet will be on the battlefield."

 

 

Listening in on the negotiations from his quarters, Lucianus was livid. He had coerced Marcus into throwing the possession of the human into the negotiations by reminding him that it was an insult to their claim over Earth. Instead, Marcus pushed too hard and now they've lost negotiation ground, but more importantly, he's potentially lost the kludge.

He had one chance to nab the the human before the delegation disembarked. Lucianus thought of the pathetic-looking bucket of bolts in the aft hangar deck. That is where the thing had been headed earlier. Before he could hear the rest of the conversation in the conference room, he disconnected his listening device and quickly made his way to the _Eureka Maru_.

 

The Triumvir stood, "Now, Captain Hunt. Let's not be so hasty to make such a decision. Surely we can come to an agreement on this issue."

"Excuse me?" Dylan wasn't sure he had actually heard the politician correctly.

"Perhaps the young man should return with the Dragans to his homeworld for a time. Surely it is a small price to pay for a peaceful settlement."

Harper rushed to Dylan's side and spoke softly, "He'll kill me, boss. I know who it is. I saw him in the corridor yesterday. He'll kill me."

"Surely your engineer is overreacting, Captain!" The Triumvir turned to look at Marcus. "You have no intentions of harming this man, do you?"

Marcus kept his expression neutral. "I have no intentions at all regarding this human. Other than to return him to Earth where he belongs. Should he be damaged during transport for attempting to escape... " Marcus merely shrugged, "well, it has been known to happen."

The Triumvir pushed a bit further. "Perhaps if you could give Captain Hunt some assurances as to his well being... "

"I will do no such thing. He is cargo. Just because you've dressed him up and called him an engineer doesn't mean he has any intrinsic value. He is a slave."

While Dylan may not have recognized the degree of Harper's panic, Rommie did. It was hard to not to. Harper's pulse was elevated, his palms were sweaty and his breathing was becoming rapid and shallow. He also cradled his side and absently rubbed his arm where Rommie knew he had a deep scar hidden beneath the sleeve of his shirt. Outwardly, Rommie suspected he looked only concerned, but she could register the panic and fear the entire exchange had brought him. And then Rommie knew. She knew without hesitation that Harper had not been recognized by chance and that the request on the table now wasn't one of coincidence.

Rommie had spent time with Harper's cousin, Brendan, while on Earth a couple years ago. She had learned a lot about Harper's painful past, more than she would admit to Harper. Brendan had told her how Harper had disappeared one night. That in itself wasn't all that uncommon of a tale around Boston. What was uncommon was that Harper reappeared almost three months later. He returned filthy, half-starved and looking as if he'd been tortured the entire time. His body was a riddled with bruises, cuts and burns and he had several contusions covering his face. His back was a mess of welts, some were healing while others were open and oozing. The wound on his arm was the worst, the infection alone had almost killed him. Apparently Harper was forced to rip the bone blades of an unconscious Nietszchean out of his own arm in order to escape.

Without consulting Dylan, Rommie decided to take charge of the situation. "Mr. Calpunius, you claim that one your aides recognized Mr. Harper. Is that aide in the room?"

Marcus narrowed his eyes and studied the android for a moment. "No. He is making preparations for our departure. Why? Is it important?"

"Perhaps. Did your aide advise you to risk the entire negotiations?"

"Of course not. It's simply a matter of principle."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And this aide, he is an honorable sort?"

Marcus stiffened at the direction the conversation was taken, clearly not sure where she was headed. He nodded. "Of course he is. He would not be my aide otherwise."

"Has he told you of his experiences on Earth? Has he told you how he recognized Mr. Harper?"

Harper almost whimpered. "Please Rommie... don't."

"Has he told you how he routinely obtained unregistered humans from the ghettos? Humans who were mostly malnourished, some even weakened with disease. Has he told you how he abused them until they died for his own amusement?"

Marcus sat in stony silence.

"Is that what an honorable sort of Nietszchean does, Mr. Calpunius? Prey upon the weak?"

"Of course not!"

"Lucky for me, my engineer is a genius because he found a way to survive."

Marcus sighed and conceded the issue. "Survival is an admirable trait." He looked to Dylan and the Triumvir. "Well then gentlemen, shall we finalize these proceedings?"

Before either man could respond, Rommie slammed her hands down on the table and leaned into face the Nietszchean. "One more thing, Mr. Calpunius."

Startled, but trained enough to hide it well, Marcus replied. "And what is that?"

"If you or any of your lackeys so much as look at Mr. Harper, just remember that I am a warship. I'm not known to have a temper, but I am willing to make an exception."

Marcus gulped and nodded.

Rommie stood up, composed herself and moved back to stand beside Dylan. Calmly she reported, "Dylan, Lucianus Ataturk is currently attempting to access the _Eureka Maru_.

Dylan cleared his throat and looked to Marcus. "Your aide appears to be lost."

"He is no longer my aide."

"Andromeda, dispatch a security detail to _escort_ Mr. Ataturk to the proper hangar bay for departure. Mr. Calpunius will meet him there once he's signed the treaty."

 

Thirty minutes later, the crew stood in command and watched as the Nietszchean cruiser departed. The Triumvir entered and smiled broadly.

"Ah, there you are Captain. I must say that we make one hell of a negotiating team. In fact, I think that..."

"You ship has been prepped and is ready to depart." Rommie interrupted the politician.

"Captain, perhaps you should have someone look into the behavior of your AI. She seems a bit, well... opinionated."

Dylan stood in front of the Triumvir, glaring down at him. "Of course, while on official business for the Commonwealth you will be welcome aboard as befits your position. However, if you ever again suggest that I willingly enslave one of my crew for political gain, I will have you thrown in the brig. Is that understood?"

Dylan did not wait for an answer and turned, ignoring the protesting politician as a security detail discreetly escorted the him from the room.

Harper looked over to Dylan. "Hey. Uh... thanks, boss."

"Thank Rommie. I'm living in mortal fear of her after her threat to Marcus earlier."

Standing at the helm, Beka smiled and joined in. "Yeah. Uh... Harper, I haven't actually _hurt_ you, right? I mean, last week was just a joke. How was I supposed to know tickling you would make you throw up? You're not going to sick your warship on me are you?"

Soon everyone was cracking jokes. Rommie sensed Harper relax and smiled as she listened to the sounds of laughter spread throughout the command deck.

 

***end***


End file.
